Ahead of his second solo exhibition with us, we sat down with Max White to talk colour theory, plein air painting and we even discussed what music he likes to listen to.. we also spoke about the contrasts between studio work and outdoor painting, as well as the ever-changing English weather and its influence on his work.

Fresh Air will be on view at the gallery from 30 April to 2 May.

*Forest in Blue and Green | Oil on Linen | 46 × 61 cm*

On Colour Theory…

What colour could you not live without?

If you asked me that question a year ago I would have said Ivory black, life is made of greys and having a shortcut on the palette is a saving grace sometimes, but it's not as useful when you're looking to capture the various effects of sunlight on a colourful landscape. Today I'd have to say I can't live without Cadmium Yellow Lake, nothing compares when you're mixing greens, you just have to try it.

Is there a colour that never seems to work for you, no matter how often you try it?

Honestly I can never seem to get used to any blue other than Ultramarine. I've tried them all, Cobalt, Cerulean, Pthalo etc but I think Ultramarine just has the range I really like from my colours. I prefer a colour with a medium tinting strength that isn't too stiff and preferably comes closer to a dark out of the tube, Ultramarine ticks the boxes!

If your work had a signature colour, what would it be, and why does it matter to you?

I try to come up with a new palette for every painting I do in the studio, so with that in mind I have to say... white! It's present in every colour you see on my canvases, I can't remember the last time I mixed something without dipping into it. I also prefer a completely flat finish to my paintings, totally opaque paint, the white definitely helps me achieve this.

Painting en Plein Air…

You often paint en plein air. What has been the most beautiful or unexpectedly moving location you have painted?

The first few times I painted en plein air I worked entirely on scraps of cardboard, using water mixable oil paints, with an amazon basic 'pochade' box and a couple of brushes I stole from my school about 4 years previously, and I had no idea what I was doing. It was November when I first went out to paint so the sunsets were early, it was also freezing, and I spent every evening I could perched on the side of the Surrey hills, an hour's hike from my house. I was alone, it went from sunset, to dusk, to night, and I would paint six or seven studies of moments I saw each time, just 2 x 2 inch cardboard squares. The feeling of total solitude watching the moon rise, or a curtain of fog roll in and obscure my hometown, that was the most moving experience of my career. I felt like I broke new ground every day, and there's nothing quite like chasing a dream in the dark.

Where is the one place you dream of painting but have not yet?

The Arctic.

Has nature ever memorably interfered with a painting, whether through weather, wildlife, or people passing by?

The first time I painted in London, I perched myself right on the banks of the Thames just under Tower Bridge, I wasn't quite ready to face the watchful eye of the general public so I opted for a quiet spot. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit that at this point in my life my geography skills were lacking, and I had no idea that the Thames featured a tide... After starting my painting and focusing so hard on getting the buildings right I noticed my drawing of the river was way off, so I adjusted it, and adjusted again... and again. In my confusion I didn't really notice the water was creeping up past my shoes and I only snapped out of the zone when my foot felt abnormally cold. So with a wet foot I hastily packed up my kit and legged it back up the stairs and quietly hopped on a train home hoping people wouldn't notice my Thames water stained jeans. That painting was never finished.

On English Weather…!

The weather can be unforgiving in the UK, what was the worst painting day you have experienced?

I had a horrible experience painting around Oxford Circus one day. It wasn't particularly wet, I generally think that a day of consistent rain can be very productive, it's the changes that ruin a day. This particular day featured sunshine, clouds, and torrential rain all on a repeating cycle every 15 minutes, with high winds blowing my easel over repeatedly throughout the day. I started 4 paintings, and each one looked like it was done in a different season. By the end of the day I was soaked, frustrated, and my easel was broken from falling over every 5 minutes. Easily the worst painting day I can remember. I think I tossed one of the paintings into the Thames

What is the strangest thing you have done to protect a painting from the elements?

If I'm plein air painting in the summer, I'll bring a white umbrella to shade the work from direct sunlight. This makes sense to me, as having sun directly hit the work makes it really difficult to judge colour and tone, and having it in shadow does the same thing, so white translucent screen allows white light to filter through, and I can really see what's going on whilst I'm painting that way. However to the general public I am shielding myself from rain that doesn't exist, and I've heard quite a few comments on how ridiculous it looks.

If you had to choose between painting in a storm or a heatwave, which would you pick, and why?

I have to say a heatwave every time. As much as I enjoy the beauty of a storm cloud or the drama that unfolds because of one, it isn't quite as practical to paint as a heatwave. As soon as a splash of heavy rain hits the surface you're working on, the oil paint won't stick anymore, and ultramarine has a strange tendency to run when it gets wet. This is without mentioning the wind that presents its own challenges. In the heat you can at least guarantee you'll remain dry and won't end up chasing your easel down the street as the wind carries it off.

Instinct + Process

You have remarkable instincts for colour. Where do you think this sensitivity comes from?

I haven't always felt like I had an instinct for colour, and for years I do believe I was simply trying to copy what I saw in front of me en plein air. It was only when I took my practice away from the subject and started painting from colour notes, sketches, images, and memory in the studio that I had to really think about colour. Nature itself is perfect, so to try and copy that perfection is an incredible pursuit worth the effort, but I am more focused nowadays on creating works that show more about how the landscape made me feel at the time. I usually come home after a long sketching hike with a memory of a scene in my head, plus a bag full of reference material, and the fun for me is to try and find a compromise between the reference material and my internal impression of the scene. The colour system of a painting carries a significant portion of the emotional weight of a painting. So one of the first things I do before starting a painting is to see how far I can push the colour relationships I saw and noted down on site into a more simple harmony which better matches my personal impression of the scene. I usually create 4 or 5 tiny colour studies for each painting in oils using different colour combinations each time. I have spent a while studying the colour wheel, and the various harmonies within it, so I try to find a system that works for each painting. This in turn has led me to use a completely different palette for every painting. Perhaps I just see colour as a more important element in my work, and in turn spend a lot more time thinking about it.

*Max White in his studio | Photo by Lily Bungay*

Do you have any rituals or habits before you begin painting that people might not expect?

Unfortunately I find it difficult to start working, if I have a habit it's probably unwanted procrastination. When I finally get around to painting, I will spend a good half an hour just mixing paint.

If you could borrow the eye of any artist for a day, whose would it be?

Fred Cuming without question, he could paint the most convincing landscapes and seascapes from little more than a pencil sketch. He had so much power within his work, and so much emotion, it's sometimes haunting to look at his paintings. I really regret not finding a way to meet him before he passed away.

Legacy and Memory

If only one of your paintings could survive as a record of your work, which would you choose?

Last year I created a painting called "Rise" which featured nothing particularly interesting. It was a combination of a telephone pole, some houses, distant hills, and the moon, but I was so proud of the way it all worked together. I felt like I made something new out of some really regular things. I wouldn't say that I try to create something totally new or intentionally unique in every painting I do, and I pride myself moreso on creating something that feels sincere, but I think that the painting I made that time in particular was something I had never seen before.

Which painting changed you the most while creating it?

I did a very small 4 x 6 inch study of the sea in Mauritius about an hour before I got engaged last year. I can never sell that painting, and that was definitely the most emotional bit of painting I've ever done.

If someone could view only one of your works to fully understand your approach, which would it be?

This is difficult to answer because I think I do generally alter what I do every time in one way or another. In a way I quite like the idea that all of my works are unique in their own creation. Perhaps I just haven't painted enough pictures to find a thread between every one just yet.

Studio Life and Sound…

Do you listen to music or podcasts while you paint, and what are you listening to at the moment?

En plein air I sometimes listen to history podcasts, a lot of 'the rest is history' in the daylight, but I also have a playlist of music for each time of day, during the day it's a lot of ambient stuff usually like Nine Inch Nails, Brian Eno, Godspeed You, or Pink Floyd. At night I prefer a different tone, a lot of jazz like Bill Evans or Chet Baker, and sometimes Vangelis. In the studio I literally watch too much to nail it down. I have to have that extra bit of stimulation whilst I work for long periods. I actually watch a lot of documentaries, TV series, movies sometimes, just in the background. At the moment I am watching the first season of the twilight zone from the 1960s. Truthfully though I also listened to nothing but the Wu Tang Clan for the first 6 months of 2023.

*Dusk in Dorset | Oil on Linen | 20 × 40 cm*

Is there a particular sound that helps you enter the mindset to work?

I think the first few scrapes of a palette knife mixing a pile of fresh paint gets me in the zone.

If your body of work had a soundtrack, what genre would define it?

I think I'd say soundtracks, if that counts as a genre. I don't like having people in my paintings anymore, so any musical companion to my work wouldn't have lyrics. Good soundtracks emphasise emotion and mood without being too obvious, and that's exactly what I want in my paintings.

Fresh Air is in the Gallery from 20 April to 2 May.

Artist Spotlight: Max White